


Learning Curves

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, F/M, First Dates, First Time, Premature Ejaculation, Smut, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:29:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23768869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: After their first official date, Benson goes home with Barba to his apartment. Things don't go quite as expected.For the crackfic prompt: Virgin Barba.
Relationships: Rafael Barba & Olivia Benson, Rafael Barba/Olivia Benson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 104





	1. Chapter 1

“Here, here, I’ll do it,” she said, pushing his fumbling hands aside to quickly unfasten the last few buttons of her blouse. He made a noise that sounded like irritation, but she was pretty sure it was frustration. She shrugged out of her shirt and reached back to unhook her bra before he could mangle that task, too.

She was surprised by how much he’d changed since dinner, where he’d been his usual witty, sarcastic, charming self. He’d dressed the part for a casual but classy date, in dark slacks and a maroon sweater that looked so achingly soft that she’d sat across from him longing to feel it beneath her fingertips.

She’d planned on wearing a dress—black, tight, with a back that swooped almost-indecently low and a front that left little to the imagination—but had decided in the final hour before his arrival that it might be a little too much for their first official date. She’d chosen a teal blouse, instead, because she knew he liked it. He’d made an almost-offhand comment when she’d shown up wearing it one evening after being called away from a date. That particular date had been going badly, anyway.

She’d put on the blouse expecting her date with Barba to go much better, and by halfway through dinner she’d known for sure that she was going to go home with him for the night. She’d already tentatively arranged for Lucy to stay until morning, but she’d tried not to get her hopes _too_ high. After years of mutual pining, poor timing, and missed chances, after having her heart break in her chest when he walked away from SVU—from _her_ —she thought they were finally on the same page. He was freshly home from Iowa, and sporting a beard that she found far more appealing in person than she’d expected, and the time away had done him a world of good.

He was healthy, relaxed, well-rested, nothing like the tortured man who’d seen his world crumbling through his fingertips. There was a light in his eyes that she hadn’t seen in years, and something in his smile that assured her he was exactly as happy to be with her as she was with him.

But now? Something had changed. Gone was the wit, the confidence, the smile. He was nervous, breathless, and all thumbs. Somewhere between the restaurant and his apartment—

No, not the restaurant. His _door_. Their first kiss, sweet and soft and slow despite the urgency simmering beneath. It was everything she could’ve hoped for. His lips had molded to hers perfectly, and he hadn’t put up a shred of resistance when she’d licked her way into his mouth to take control of the kiss.

Something had changed after that first kiss, though. It was like a switch had been flipped, and as soon as he’d pulled away to unlock his door he’d become a fumbling, nervous, uncoordinated mess. His awkwardness was sort of endearing, and his eagerness was definitely flattering. There was no doubt he wanted her; the proof was straining at the front of his trousers, although she’d hardly needed the physical evidence after a night spent flirting and undressing each other with their eyes.

She tossed her bra aside and saw him swallow hard as his gaze skated down over her naked breasts. He lifted a hand but hesitated, glancing up at her face, so she stepped forward and pressed her breast into his waiting palm. She wasn’t interested in playing hard to get.

“Liv?” he asked, and she kissed him. She could feel the desperation and hunger in his kiss. His hand was covering her breast, unmoving, at odds with the urgency in his lips.

She grabbed the bottom of his sweater, tugging it up over his head along with the shirt beneath. She almost strangled him as the collar caught at his throat, and she struggled for a few seconds to pull the garments free before the top button popped loose.

“Sorry,” she said, tossing his shirts on top of hers on the floor. She grabbed the back of his head, slipping her fingers into his messy hair, and pulled him in for another frantic kiss. She turned him toward his bedroom, kissing him as she steered him along, and he held onto her hips as they both managed to kick off their shoes while they went.

He tripped in the doorway and she grabbed his waistband to keep him from tumbling over—and taking her with him. Since her hands were already there, she unbuckled his belt and quickly unfastened his trousers, carefully lowering his zipper over his erection. She smiled at the thin, slick layer of silk she found as she pushed his fly open.

He made a small humming sound and shifted his hips away. She looked at his face, but he wouldn’t quite meet her eyes. Instead, he quickly ducked his head and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, her collarbone, down to the soft skin of her breast. His hands skittered down her sides like he wasn’t sure where they should land, and he hesitated before reaching for the button of her slacks.

“You seem nervous,” she said, because it _had_ to be said. She couldn’t ignore his discomfort. “Do you want me to slow down?”

“No. I’m…sorry,” he said. He turned his face away from hers and stood unmoving for a moment before pressing another kiss against her chest. “Sorry,” he repeated in a murmur. He managed to open her pants and she shoved them off without hesitation, quickly stepping free. She ran her hands up his arms, over his shoulders, down the warm expanse of his back.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, slipping her hands into his pants to pull him closer. She cupped his ass through the silk. “And don’t be nervous, Rafael, it’s only me here. I promise not to take advantage.”

He made a sound that was a little too desperate to really be a laugh, but he finally let his hands begin to freely roam. She pressed against him, flattening her breasts against his chest as his fingers explored her skin—tracing her curves, finding the dimple at her lower back, the crease where her ass met her thighs; sliding back up her sides to slip over the ridges of her ribs. He buried his face in the hollow of her neck, kissing her throat, and she tipped her head to the side.

“Rafa,” she breathed, slipping one hand into the front of his pants. She needed to feel more of his skin against hers, needed all the barriers gone.

He made a strangled sound and abruptly pulled away, and she blinked in surprise. He stood, turned halfway with his head lowered and his hands clenched into fists at his sides, breathing heavily. “ _Shit_ ,” he hissed after a moment.

“What—Are you okay?” she asked, stepping closer and reaching out a hand.

“Wait,” he said, and the panic in his voice stopped her from touching him. He ran a shaky hand over his face and glanced at her. “Sorry, I…I, um—”

“Oh,” she said as realization dawned. “You—Okay.” She was helpless to keep her gaze from darting toward his crotch, where she could see the wet stain spreading across the silk protruding from the open fly of his trousers. “That’s my fault, I’m sorry, I was too aggressive.”

“No.” He drew a deep breath and turned to face her, reaching out to cup his hands to her jaw. “ _I’m_ sorry.” He leaned forward to kiss her, and she could practically feel him gathering his resolve before he moved one hand and reached down between their bodies. His touch was tentative but grew more determined when she spread her legs to give him easier access. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, or the way she’d imagine their first time, but she wanted his touch any way she could get it. They could do better the next time.

She grabbed his hips and pushed his pants and briefs down his thighs, knowing the cooling silk was surely uncomfortable. He kicked the garments off as she pulled him toward the bed. He still had one hand between her legs, but his touch was awkward and off-target. She bit back her groan of frustration and dropped onto the bed, pulling him down with her.

He ducked his head, kissing her neck and down her chest. He gave her nipple a tentative flick of his tongue before pulling it into his mouth, and she arched against him. His fingers were moving but she squirmed restlessly, trying to help him find the right angle.

“Are you—I don’t—”

“Relax,” she said. He was trying, but she was tempted to push his hand aside and finish herself; they could start from scratch the next time.

“Sorry. Should I, um…” He poked a fingertip at her opening, his touch gentle but without confidence.

“Don’t try so hard,” she said, unable to keep the frustration from her voice. “You’re acting like you’ve never done this before.”

She didn’t think about the words until she felt him go completely still above her. She couldn’t see his face, because his head was bent down over her chest, but there was no mistaking the sudden tension in his body.

“Rafael? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I realize I should’ve told you before now, but I really thought I’d be able to…go on instinct or something.” He spoke quietly, but she could hear the apology in his voice.

“What?” She stared at his mussed hair, trying to make sense of what was happening. Her body was flushed with desire, and the unrequited ache between her legs was more than a little distracting. She must be misunderstanding him. “Are you…saying you’ve never done this before?”

He lifted his head to look at her, and his eyes were full of wariness. “I probably could’ve faked my way through if I hadn’t spent the better part of the past decade dreaming about a moment like this. With you.”

“I…Jesus, Rafael, I didn’t—How is that possible?” She realized as soon as she saw his wince that her words sounded judgmental and accusatory, and she wasn’t feeling either of those things. “Forget that,” she said before he could answer. “Okay, look at me.” She laid her palm against his cheek. “I’m right here. Just us, you and me. Same as always.”

“Always,” he murmured with the hint of a smile. He shifted up to press a soft kiss against her lips. “Tell me what to do,” he said after a moment.

She almost told him it wasn’t necessary, that her arousal didn’t matter, that he shouldn’t feel obligated to do anything that made him uncomfortable. She swallowed the words because she could see the determined set of his jaw, and the glint of resolve in his eyes. He might not know what he was doing, but he didn’t intend to leave her unsatisfied.

What she wanted was to feel him inside of her, but that would have to wait. She reached between them, guiding his fingers into place. “Just like this,” she breathed.

“You want me to…use my tongue?” he offered.

She groaned, closing her eyes for a moment. “Later,” she said. “Right now I want your mouth on mine.”

He kissed her obediently, continuing the steady rhythm against her clit until she came shallowly with a soft cry into his mouth. It was enough—for now—and she pushed him over onto his back and rolled onto her side, settling her head against his shoulder. He stroked her hair back from her face and she closed her eyes.

The silence stretched out, but it wasn’t awkward. She was surprised by his lack of experience, but it certainly didn’t change the way she felt about him.

“We should probably get you cleaned up,” she said after a couple of minutes.

“I should’ve told you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Seriously? I owe you everything,” he answered.

“For the record, I am flattered,” she said, and he huffed a small laugh. “And surprised. All the flirting. And you must’ve had women and men beating down your door. Why you made your decisions is your business, though, and it doesn’t change anything between us.”

“I went to a Jesuit high school. If that guilt and fear wasn’t enough, do you think I wanted to face my mother’s wrath? Or my grandmother’s disappointment? If I was anything other than a gentleman?” He paused, considering. “Of course those were good excuses to cover my absolute terror about sex.”

Benson smiled and kissed his chest. “I wish I’d known you back then.”

He shifted his head so he could look at her. “So you could deflower me sooner?” he asked, arching a brow, and she grinned at him.

“By my count, you haven’t been deflowered _yet_ , Barba.”

“Besides, you would’ve been way too old for me,” he added, laughing when she pinched playfully at his side. “Ow, _then_ , _then_ , not _now_.”

“I could’ve used a _gentleman_ in high school,” she said.

He grew somber, rubbing his hand up her arm. “I wish we’d known each other, too,” he said quietly, although there was no sense wondering what might’ve been. They’d grown up in two different worlds—similar in many ways, but miles apart both physically and metaphorically.

“College?” she prompted after long moments of silence.

“There was no time for dating, then,” he said. “I had enough to prove without worrying about embarrassing myself…” He trailed off, but she waited. She knew he would say what he wanted to say. “To tell the truth, I’ve, um…always been a bit of a…secret romantic.”

“I’ll pretend I haven’t always known that about you,” she said, and he made a small sound of amusement. “There’s nothing wrong with it, you know? But I imagine it got harder the longer you—Shut up, you know what I mean,” she laughed.

“It did,” he agreed after a moment. He sighed. “It seemed so easy for everyone, and by the time I graduated it felt like I’d missed an opening somehow, like it was too late. So I focused on my career, and eventually I grew up a little more and realized that was ridiculous, that I didn’t have to follow anyone else’s timeline.”

“You grew up _after_ Harvard?”

He chuckled. “It turns out that while I was busy paying dues and proving myself, I was gaining confidence. Who knew? Suddenly I had people slipping me numbers and cards, inviting me out for drinks. I learned how to flirt.”

“You certainly did.”

“Learned how to bluff my way through anything. And I figured I could bluff my way through sex. How hard could it be? Not like I didn’t know the anatomy.” He slid his hand down to her hip. “Well, I thought I did,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

“You did very well. You’re a quick study and practice makes perfect.”

“So I dated a bit, and there were times I came close, but it just never felt right. And then I started working with SVU and…”

“Sex crimes,” she said quietly. “It’s rough, I know.”

“I guess it’s not something you ever get used to, but eventually I found a way to compartmentalize a bit.”

She thought he was going to say more, but the silence stretched out. “Does it bother you that I have…more experience?” she finally asked.

“If you didn’t have experience, then neither of us would know what we were doing.”

She smiled, but said, “I’m serious. You can tell me. There are things I regret, you know, but…”

“Everything in our lives has led us here,” he said. “And you must know I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, Liv.”

“Aww, careful, Barba,” she warned, snuggling closer against him. “That romantic streak is showing.”

“Must be the afterglow.”

She laughed, tipping her face up for a kiss. “Take a boy’s virginity and he’s putty in your hands,” she teased.

“I think that happened before the sex stuff.”

“Sex stuff,” she repeated with a laugh. “If you were putty in my hands, why’d you spend so many years arguing with me?”

“I thought we were flirting?”

She laughed again. “That, too.”

“I did say I was a hopeless romantic.”

“Why hopeless?”

“Because once I met you, I didn’t want anyone else. And I knew I couldn’t have you.”

She was struck temporarily speechless, and she felt the unexpected burn of tears behind her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—” He broke off when she pushed herself up and over him. He put his hands on her hips as she straddled his waist and leaned down to kiss him.

“Well, we’re both here, now,” she said, touching her lips against his, and he smiled. She brushed his hair back from his forehead and searched his face. “Any regrets?”

He raised his eyebrows. “About waiting for you? Definitely not. I am sorry tonight wasn’t better for you, though.”

“The night isn’t over. And I promise it’ll only get better from here.” She glanced down between their bodies. “It feels like you like this position. I can work with that.”

He grinned up at her. “You’re the teacher, I’m the student. I will do what _ever_ you tell me to do.”

“In that case, what do you say we see about a proper deflowering?”

“Then I guess I should say…you’re the gardener?” he suggested, laughing as she kissed him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unofficially called The Deflowering of Rafael Barba ;)

“You sure you don’t want some help?”

She shot him a quick smile over her shoulder. “Just lay there and enjoy the view,” she said, turning her attention back to the last of six candles she’d placed around his bedroom.

“Oh, I am,” he answered, running his gaze slowly down her naked back and over the soft curve of her ass. She’d turned the overhead light off, but the flickering candlelight made her skin glow. She gave her ass a little wiggle before she turned to face him, and he grinned in response. “Are you trying to seduce me—”

“If you say Mrs. Robinson,” she warned.

“Captain Benson?” he finished, sliding his grin into a smirk.

“Seems to be working,” she said, glancing down his naked body. He shifted a little, mildly self-conscious but not enough to hide himself from her. “How about you?” she asked, kneeling on the edge of the bed and crawling toward him. He watched the swing of her breasts for a moment, her pale skin accented by the play of light and shadows from the flickering flames. “You doing okay?”

He knew she was asking if he was uncomfortable, laid out naked and vulnerable on the bed, but he trusted her implicitly. “Never better,” he said, and her answering smile was full of affection. “You really don’t have to do this, though.”

She swung a leg over him, straddling his waist, and bent down to brush a kiss over his lips. “If you didn’t want your first time to be special, you shouldn’t have chosen me to share it with,” she murmured, giving his smile another soft kiss.

“I already came in my pants, are you trying to make me cry, too?”

She laughed, leaning her forehead against his for a few seconds. He ran his hands up her sides, his fingers warm and his touch light. He stopped at her ribs, splaying his fingers, and tipped his chin up to catch her lips for another kiss before once more settling his forehead against hers.

They stayed like that for long moments, listening to their own heartbeats and the soft strains of the music she’d selected on his stereo. “Glad I’m not the only romantic here,” he finally sighed, searching her dark gaze when she lifted her head.

“No,” she agreed with a smile. “But I will say, you have a lot of candles for a guy living alone.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “That’s sexist,” he accused. “I’m not allowed to enjoy a nice candlelit bubble bath?”

She shifted so she was bracing her forearms against his shoulders and threaded her fingers into his hair. “Do you?”

He chuckled quietly. “Sometimes.”

“Next time, will you invite me? I’ll wash your hair for you.”

He shifted his head on the pillow, looking surprised. “You’re invited to everything, always.” His gaze became speculative, and his thumbs slid up under her breasts. “Long-buried dreams of being a hairdresser?” he teased, making no attempt to hide his interest.

“No. I just really like having my fingers in your hair,” she said, giving his scalp a quick massage in demonstration. She glanced down toward his hands. “You know you’re allowed to touch wherever you want.” She paused. “On me, I mean.” She kissed his smile and over to his bearded jaw, taking a moment to relish the rough tickle. He’d said he intended to shave, but she might ask him to hold off for another few days.

She kissed the side of his neck and he tipped his head, humming as she trailed more soft kisses into the hollow of his shoulder and toward his chest. His hands slid down to her hips and up to splay over her ass, pulling her gently against his erection. She licked and sucked at the warm skin of his pec, and his hands tightened until his fingers were digging into her soft flesh. She felt his erection twitch beneath her, but when she shifted herself backward he immediately loosened his grip to let her go.

She moved her hands to his shoulders and found his nipple with her mouth, nipping lightly before running her tongue over the hard bud to sooth the sting. She could feel him carefully controlling his breathing. His hands had begun to roam again, tracing warm lines over her back and down her sides. Her breasts were flattened against his stomach as she continued to tease his nipple with her tongue.

She shifted further down his thighs, trailing kisses to his stomach, pausing to flip her hair off her face. His fingers settled onto her arms as she sucked lightly at the soft skin of his belly. She had her hands on his shoulders, her elbows resting against his sides. Her knees bracketed his legs, and she had him effectively pinned to the bed.

She looked up and met his gaze. The candlelight flickered in his eyes as he stared down at her from beneath heavy lids. “Are you okay with this?” she asked.

“I’m not complaining,” he murmured, “but I feel like I should be doing some of the work, here.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll give you plenty of work to do next time.”

He started to laugh, but the sound choked off in the middle when she ducked her head and ran her tongue up the length of his erection. “Jesus,” he breathed after a moment. He lifted a hand to her head and then drew it back, unsure. “Can I…”

“It’s fine,” she assured him, and she felt his fingers slip cautiously into her hair. “Don’t be scared, I won’t bite,” she added, flashing a smile.

“Liv, I—” He stopped himself, swallowing the declaration before it could fall off his tongue. She was still looking at him but he gave his head a little shake; he didn’t want her to think it was the desire talking. “Fear is not what I’m feeling,” he mumbled instead, and her smile softened.

“Well.” She pressed a kiss to his stomach. “I’m right here if you get overwhelmed by anything.”

He blinked against the sting of tears, cursing himself as too sentimental, but he knew he didn’t need to fear any judgement from her. He nodded and brushed her hair back behind her ear, trying to prepare himself; she wouldn’t judge, but he still didn’t want to make a fool of himself by being overly-eager. Again.

She studied him a moment longer, reading his thoughts. “Don’t think so much, Barba,” she said. She slipped her fingers beneath his erection and dipped her head, kissing the base of his shaft. “I’m flattered.” She kissed her way up his length. “Honored.” She lifted him away from his stomach and paused, holding his stare in the flickering glow of the candles. “I don’t usually do this,” she admitted softly, “so we’ll learn together.”

She didn’t wait for a response, which was for the best. He doubted he’d be able to speak. His eyes slipped closed when she wrapped her lips around him and pulled him into her mouth, but he forced them open a moment later. The sight alone—Olivia Benson, the most beautiful person he’d ever known, ever seen, her naked body draped over his legs, her mouth around his cock as he held her hair back from her face—was nearly enough to push him over the edge and put an abrupt end to things.

Her mouth was gentle, her movements slow. He felt a new tentativeness in her touch, and her words— _we’ll learn together_ —settled into his chest, easing his worry. He hadn’t realized how tense he was until he felt himself relaxing into the mattress.

She felt the difference in his body and her mouth tightened in response. She lowered her head, taking more of him into her mouth, and paused. She had a hand circled around his base in a loose fist, and after a moment she bobbed her head, slurping quietly. Barba shifted, making a sound he barely heard. All of his focus was on her, on every contraction of her mouth, every play of her tongue, every slurp and hum, the feeling of her hand resting just above his hip, the softness of her hair between his fingers, the weight of her breasts against his leg.

He didn’t try to muffle his moans or keep his body still, he didn’t fight the curl of his toes. He didn’t try to curb or stall his impending climax, but when she had him teetering on the edge he did try to voice a warning in case his ragged breaths weren’t obvious enough.

“Liv,” he gasped, careful to keep his hand from fisting in her tangled hair, “I’m—I can’t—” He didn’t manage anything more intelligible, but she lifted her head, giving the tip of his cock one last gentle suck before releasing him. He blinked up at her as she shifted herself forward to straddle him. Both of his hands had somehow found her waist, and he held on—to steady her or himself, he didn’t know.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

He nodded against the pillow. “I do have protection. If you want…” It occurred to him that he probably should’ve offered sooner, but his brain had only been working at half-capacity since the kiss outside his apartment door—the moment when he’d realized that her coming home with him was not just an excuse to share a few more drinks. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t hoped, hadn’t attempted to plan for the eventuality, but he’d held no expectations.

“You might need it if you’re going to start having sex with twenty-year-olds,” she said, flashing him a smile as she positioned herself over his erection.

“ _Twenty_?” he repeated, and she laughed softly at the note of horror in his voice.

“Thirty, maybe,” she teased.

“I bought it for—” He stopped, catching his breath as she sank slowly down onto his length. She took him all the way to the hilt and paused, moving her hands to his chest. He released his breath in a slow sigh; his hands were spread over her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he held on for dear life. “You,” he finished after several seconds of silence.

He saw a brief flash of something like alarm cross her features. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked—”

“Not for me,” he assured her quickly, reaching up to pull her forward for a kiss. She dropped against his chest and his arms went around her automatically. He groaned into her mouth when she shifted her hips, lifting herself up a little before sinking back. “I bought it just in case.” He turned his mouth away from hers, burying his face in her neck and breathing in her scent.

“I’m past the point of pregnancy worries,” she said, kissing his shoulder as she started slowly rocking her hips. “But I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. I just wanted to feel you.”

His arms tightened and he nuzzled under her jaw. “All I want is you,” he murmured, barely aware of what he was saying. “Liv. God.” His hips had begun to match her movements, his body thrusting shallowly and instinctively as she quickened her pace and carried them both toward the brink.

He felt her body quivering and tightening around his and he repeated her name, crying out into her hair when he came buried deep inside her. She slowed and stilled, her body sagging against his. They were both breathing heavily, their hearts thudding in their chests, and neither of them moved for nearly a minute.

Then he turned his face to kiss her temple, and asked quietly, “Do you have to leave?” He didn’t want to risk ruining the moment, but he needed to know how much time he had to hold onto her.

She sighed. “Eventually,” she said, carefully shifting herself off him. He dropped his arms to let her go, but immediately curled one back around her when she slid onto her side and nestled her shoulder in his armpit. “Not until morning,” she added, laying her cheek against his shoulder. She put her hand over his heart and he covered it with his own, wanting as much contact as possible. “If it’s alright if I stay the rest of the night.”

“Of course.” His body felt heavy; he could easily drift into sleep with her curled against him, but he imagined she would want to get cleaned up first. He did his best to stifle a yawn. _Stay forever_ , he thought, but he wasn’t quite sleepy enough to let those words slip. That was a conversation better saved for the light of day, when they could each be certain the other was thinking clearly.

He looked down at her, at their hands together on his chest, at her naked body curled against his, at her head resting against him. He lifted his hand from her shoulder to brush her hair back so he could see her face, and he knew he was never going to be able to keep those declarations bottled up until morning. He was full of feelings that wanted to overflow, to bubble out of him and spill off his tongue. 

“Would it be inappropriate to say thank you?”

She smiled and turned her face into his chest for a moment, pressing a kiss to his skin. “I’ve never been anyone’s _first_ before.”

“First,” he mused, barely audible.

“You know what I mean.”

“Mm,” he agreed. She could feel him weighing his words, deciding what he wanted to say, and she tipped her head so she could see his face. He looked down at her. His smile held a mixture of affection and self-deprecation. “If you didn’t want to be the _only_ then you should’ve chosen someone else to seduce.” He kept his tone as light as possible but he knew she could read his eyes.

“Aw, you really _are_ sappy.”

“Putty.”

“That, too.”

“I warned you.”

“You did. I guess this means you’ll agree with me on everything from now on.”

“No more _squabbling_?”

“Right.”

“You think it was just the sexual tension making me cranky all these years?”

“I’m just saying, you don’t seem cranky now…”

“All this time I’ve been using coffee as a substitute. I should give Harvard back their scholarship.”

She laughed and gave his chest another kiss. “They don’t need to know.”

“Thank you. I’d like to revisit the no-arguing thing.”

“I knew you would.”

“What do I do when you’re being unreasonable?”

“I never am.”

“Or reckless.”

“No.”

“Overly emotional.”

“Which one of us cried a little while ago?”

“I had something in my eyes. So, to clarify, if I point out when you’re being unreasonable, I can’t have sex with you anymore?”

She lifted her head to see the sparkle of amusement in his eyes. “Who said anything about not having sex?” she exclaimed, and his lips quirked into a half-smile. She considered, narrowing her eyes. “Do I want to know which choice you would make, given that ultimatum?”

His face split into a grin. “It might be a tougher decision now.”

“Really.” She tried to glare at him but her smile betrayed her. “You love arguing _that much_ , Barba?”

_It’s not the arguing I love_ , he thought. “I just don’t like backing out of a deal.” He saw confusion ripple through her expression, and he raised his eyebrows. “Until we’re eighty-five, right? I thought we’d agreed.”

She smiled as realization dawned. “Well. It wasn’t a formal contract or anything…but if it’s that important to you…”

“It is. And I’m not the expert here, but I’ve heard there’s something called makeup sex—”

“Alright,” she said, leaning up to kiss him as he laughed. “New deal.”

“Deal,” he agreed, humming happily when her lips lingered against his.

She sighed and pushed herself up. “We can renegotiate at eighty-five.”

“Yours or mine?”

“When I get back, you’d better be awake.”

“I’ll wait for you,” he promised, laughing when she rolled her eyes. He leaned over, reaching out before she could get off the bed, and pulled her back for another kiss. “I love you, Liv.”


End file.
